


The Case of the Claret Count

by Fandoms_Unite



Category: Dark Shadows (1966), Dark Shadows (1991), Dark Shadows (2012), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_Unite/pseuds/Fandoms_Unite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to the country estate of a wealthy family to track down their missing governess. Everyone has something to hide and locals tell stories of an ancient curse and vampires stalking the region.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, well, this is my second Johnlock fic. This is part of the Fall Season TV Guide Sherlock/TV Show Fusion project on Tumblr. I'm fusing elements of all three versions of Dark Shadows (I loved them all, I couldn't choose just one, but primarily it's the 90's version.) and Sherlock. At some point I might merge this into my other story, Landslide, but for now, it's separate. Enjoy! My muse is struggling a bit with this, so comments would REALLY give me a boost since I need to get three more parts written after this one.....

John lugged the heavy bags of groceries up the stairs, muttering under his breath. Why the hell his genius detective boyfriend (it still gave him a thrill to think of Sherlock and boyfriend in the same sentence) couldn’t be bothered to pick up any groceries, ever, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t come out of his mind palace long enough to at least help bring things up the stairs. He’d texted John at least five times with reminders about things to get at the store. Of course he hadn’t even blinked when John had literally slapped a sticky note on his forehead telling him he’d gone to the store.

Hearing the irritated plucking of the violin, he sighed deeply. Apparently things weren’t going well. That level of plucking meant Sherlock was about five minutes from shooting at the wall, again. Kicking the door open, he rolled his eyes. As if his day couldn’t get much better, Mycroft was sitting there looking more smug and pleased with himself than usual, which was saying quite a bit.

“Mycroft.” He nodded, ignoring the tension between the brothers and unpacking the groceries. Whatever it was, he was NOT going to get involved. The two of them could just settle it like adults instead of the petulant children they always turned into. Making a cup of tea and filling a plate with Mrs. Hudson’s scones he put them next to Sherlock, squeezing his shoulder. “All of it Sherlock. You’ve barely eaten in days.” Sighing, Sherlock looked up at him. “Mycroft wants us to go on some ridiculous expedition in the country. Some spoiled little brat’s run off and her family’s in a lather over it and for some reason I’m supposed to go find her.”

John shrugged. “Teenagers run away all the time. I lost count of the times Harry ran off. I’m sure she’ll come back in a few days.” Mycroft shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid we don’t have that luxury. The girl in question is the nanny for a very well connected family and the granddaughter of one of Her Majesty’s close friends.” Sherlock snorted. “I have better things to do than go traipsing around the country looking for some girl who came to her senses and left the middle of nowhere for something far more interesting.”

“Well, brother dear, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice in the matter. Your presence, and that of John have been ‘requested’ at Collinwood Manor the day after tomorrow. I’ll have your costumes waiting for you there.” Getting up he smoothed out his impeccable suit. “Good day John. Please try and keep Sherlock from being too much of himself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll start packing then…..” John sighed. “What was that about costumes?” Sherlock sulked, plucking at the strings again. “The family always has some ridiculous week long Halloween event culminating in a masked ball. It will be terribly boring and a complete waste of time.” John shrugged. “Maybe, but it’ll give us a few days off. We’ve been working cases non-stop for almost a month. Much more and I was going to have a word with Greg about giving us a bit of a break for your own good. How bad can this be? Good food, a bit of fun, an easy ‘case’, spending a few days at some grand country estate where we don’t have to be quiet……..” He smirked.

That seemed to at least entice a HINT of a smile from Sherlock, a subtle twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Mmm… Well, when you put it that way, perhaps it could be worse….” John chuckled. “Mmmm thought you might see it that way. Can’t be any worse than the whole Hounds incident. No magic glowing fairy bunnies.” He teased, earning an irritated eye roll from Sherlock. “Oh, yes, you just had to put that particular detail on your blog, didn’t you? I’ve been stopped by children asking me if I kept the magic bunny and I have no idea what to say to them.”

John’ laughter rang from the kitchen as he moved about, making tea for himself. “Well that’s definitely getting added on. I’ll tell people that we gave Bluebell a nice home with a magician and she lives in the country where she eats clover and the fairies make her flower crowns.” Settling in his chair he nodded to Sherlock’s plate. “Eat. You’ve barely touched food in days. Mrs. Hudson made those especially for you since they’re your favorite, hoping to tempt you to eat. Eat.”

Sherlock grumbled but obediently nibbled on the corner of a scone. “The country is BORING, John. We’ll be stuck there in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and surrounded by boring people like Mycroft.” He wrinkled his nose with a huff. John smiled. “Come on Sherlock, it’ll be a whole new crop of people for you to deduce. People who will be just as ‘stuck’ as we are. There’s no telling the kind of scandals you’ll uncover and be able to use for a bit of blackmail if we ever need it.” “TEDIOUS!” Sherlock all but whined, beginning to settle in for what looked like would be a sulk of epic proportions. John smiled, shaking his head. “Don’t pout. We don’t have time for it. We’ve got to pack. It won’t take me that long, but you take forever deciding which of your impeccable suits to pack. Not to mention all your other stuff.” Running his hand through Sherlock’s curls slowly, he smiled. “Come on now, don’t start pouting. Why don’t you pack your violin? Always helps you think. And no, you are not taking your microscope, slides, or any of your noxious experiments. It’s just going to be a few days. And I’m certain I can keep you occupied when and if there’s nothing for you to do…….” He smirked teasingly with just enough of a tug on Sherlock’s sensitive curls to elicit a soft moan. “John…..” He panted. “You know VERY well that I…. abstain….. while on a case… That I do not like being distracted……” John nodded, a smile still tugging the corners of his mouth. “Mmmm I know, I know, but if this is a case that isn’t a case, well then we might as well enjoy the holiday while we have it.” Placing a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head he smiled. “Finish your tea and start packing.”

Waiting for Sherlock to finish packing John did a bit of research on the family and estate they were going to. Sherlock hadn’t been wrong. It was a bit isolated on the southwest coast of Cornwall in the area of St. Michael’s Mount. A look at the house was quite impressive. They just didn’t build grand places like that anymore. Apparently the family had made quite a bit of money over they years smuggling all sorts of things and doing a brisk business in trading wine from France for good Irish and Scottish whiskey. The family also owned a nice vineyard and orchard and produced their own wines, ciders, and nearby and if the weather held, it’d make for a nice picnic. The real money seemed to come from their reputation for breeding the spectacular bay horses used by the royal family to pull carriages in processions and parades. The Queen was well known to be partial to horses. No wonder Mycroft was all over this.

Sherlock put his two (TWO, for less than a week!) next to John’s battered military green duffle bag with a huff. “I FINALLY badgered Mycroft into getting us there via helicopter. There’s no a real airport or even a landing strip in reasonable distance. Someone from the house will bring a car to pick us up. Much better than the train or driving all the way there.” John stretched, nodding. “Place doesn’t look half bad. Might be some interesting things to do there besides rub elbows with rich people with secrets to keep.”

John looked out the window of the helicopter as they passed over the vast estate, making out the brownish red dots of horses grazing in the fields. Whistling he shook his head. “What does any sane person need a house THAT size for? I knew it was BIG, but Christ……” Leaning across him, Sherlock snorted. “I’m certain the family only actually uses a very small portion. The rest is kept locked up and only used occasionally for large parties such as this ridiculous masquerade thing they’re doing. Dull.” John chuckled. “Yeah, maybe so, but I’m more than a bit impressed. The horses are lovely.” Sherlock snorted again with a distasteful curl to his lips. “I don’t like them. They’re dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle…. They have a mind of their own……..” John blinked at him for a few minutes, trying to puzzle out what the first part meant before laughing. “Oh but they’re a hell of a lot better than camels I promise you that. Those things are ill tempered and nasty. They spit, with a very impressive range and when annoyed enough will not hesitate to throw their entire stomach up, preferably on you. I’ll take horses, thanks.”

Stepping out of the helicopter they were met by a very nervous, almost twitchy young man who introduced himself as Willie Loomis. He was the nephew of the head housekeeper and was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades around the estate. Aside from having a bit of a harmless crush on the lovely Miss Winters, he seemed harmless. Sherlock’s brief wave of dismissal immediately cleared Willie of having anything to do with the young lady’s disappearance.

The drive to the house was even more impressive than flying over. It was a bit of a mish mash of styles, but the place was enormous. Somehow it was a bit more daunting than when he’d been to Buckingham Palace to retrieve Sherlock. “A person could get lost for weeks in this place.” Hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, he shook his head slightly. Well if you had more money than God, you might as well have a huge house. Sherlock swept past him, charging toward the front door completely focused on the task ahead. John glanced at Willie with a shrug. “Just be especially careful with the violin case, yeah?” “Yes sir, Mister Watson, I’ll carry it up by itself first thing and put it on the bed.” John smiled, offering his hand to Willie. “Thanks, and it’s John. Just John. We’ll chat later I’m sure. For now, I’ve got to catch up with Sherlock before something happens.”

Sherlock stood facing off against the head housekeeper Mrs. Johnson who was insisting that Mrs. Collins was not yet ready to receive guests due to her delicate health and if he would please take himself into the parlor or allowed to be show up to his room to refresh himself, he would be alerted the moment the lady of the house was up to speaking with him. John suppressed a smile. While the black clad woman barely reached Sherlock’s shoulders her steely gray eyes staring right into Sherlock’s of blue green and her presence just as formidable.

John edged around Sherlock, offering his hand. “Hi. I’m John Watson. Some tea would be nice. It’s more than a bit chilly out there. I was able to do a little research on this place, but I’d love to know more.” That seemed to thaw her out a little bit and she nodded, still keeping her eyes on Sherlock. “Of course Doctor Watson, I’d be happy to tell you anything. We do appreciate you and Mr. Holmes coming all the way out here to help us. Miss Winters was a charming young lady who seemed to have quite a level head on her shoulders. It is quite unlike her to just leave without a word to anyone. She was very happy here.” John nodded. “We’ll do everything we can, I promise.”


	2. Curiouser and Curiouser.......

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock begin investigating the disappearance of Victoria Winters. It seems everyone in the house has secrets to hide and no one is telling the complete truth. Both of them run into dead ends when talking to people about what happened and why Victoria is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! Every comment and kudo and hit has been a little bit of kindling that has kept me going on this. My muse needed some time off with it being the start of a new semester. Now that things have settled down, I should be updating fairly regualrly-ish. LOL!! At least I promise to try VERY hard! For those of you reading my other fic, Landslide, I should be updating it soon too! If you haven't read it, go. It's a very adorable kidlock fic. Happy reading!!

The meeting with Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, the lady of the house, had gone well. Sherlock was charming and polite, managing to hide his annoyance at being dragged out to the middle of nowhere on an insignificant case barely noticeable even to John. She’d discussed how well the missing nanny, Victoria, had settled in at the house. Elizabeth’s grandson, David, her only charge, had taken an immediate liking to her and was excelling in his home schooling program. Hiring her had been a last resort after David had not only been kicked out of several boarding schools, but the school in the village as well.

There was a bit of usual village superstition about what had happened to the young lady. A string of deaths had the locals more than a bit jumpy and old stories about some sort of devil or demon or witch associated somewhere in the dim past of the family and estate had come back. According to Elizabeth, as she insisted they call her, it simply was not possible that Victoria had simply gotten tired of living in the middle of nowhere and left. That left them with a short list of people to talk to.

Sherlock has already eliminated Willie, the driver and all around handyman, as a suspect. While he was a bit infatuated with Victoria, he was relatively harmless. His aunt, the rather formidable Mrs. Johnson wasn’t a suspect either. Having Victoria there kept David out of her way and allowed her to keep the house running more smoothly. There were a few other household staff, but none were really suspects, just people to talk to and see what they knew. David’s parents were expected to return within the next day or two from a trip to Venice so his mother could get the very best masquerade costume possible. There was the rather reclusive Barnabas Collins who was a distant cousin of Elizabeth’s and was putting a great deal of time and money into restoring the original manor house. There was also Elizabeth’s personal physician who was also doing some sort of research into the rare blood condition both she and Barnabas had. 

Waving a hand in dismissal, cutting off John’s protests, Sherlock shook his head. “John, you’re a doctor. She’ll speak much more freely to you about things than me. And I don’t get along well with children. I barely get along with adults when forced to. I’ll get nothing useful from the boy. I’ll happily speak with his parents when they return tomorrow. I’ve spent much of my life listening to what people like them say when they think they are not saying anything.”

John huffed, arms crossed over his chest. “Thart’s complete and utter bollocks and you and I both know that. You do fine with children. You’re more patient with them than I am and I deal with them all the time!”

“Which is precisely why you will be much better at this, John. You deal with children who have been through a traumatic experience. I do not. At least not on a regular basis.” He shrugged slightly, checking his phone to see where and when he was supposed to be meeting with Barnabas. 

“Lazy git. It’s a bloody good thing I love you or I’d never put up with half of what I do.” John muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “And you had better believe that when this is all wrapped up, you will be on your very best behavior to everyone, including your brother, until I say differently.”

Smirking with one raised eyebrow, Sherlock nodded slightly. “Of course, John. I wouldn’t expect anything less than to be completely and utterly at your mercy…..” He purred. 

“Oh bloody hell……” John muttered under his breath. Stalking over to Sherlock he tangled a hand in those impossibly soft curls and tugged him down into a toe curling kiss. “Don’t forget, YOU’RE the idiot genius who decided on the no sex while on a case rule. Don’t go blaming me for fighting fire with fire. And don’t start anything you don’t intend to finish.” Nipping his lip he sighed. If he didn’t leave now, he’d never leave. “Just try and not cause too much trouble.”

Sherlock blinked several times, trying to put his thoughts back in order. Perhaps, just perhaps ‘allowing’ John to take his brain offline for a few minutes might clarify his thinking. It was a very VERY tempting thought. Tugging on his coat he made his way downstairs. Barnabas had proposed meeting at the old house. While it wasn’t that far of a walk, as John had noted it was quite cold out.

The architecture of the old manor house was quite nice. Much smaller and more compact that the ‘new’ house and in a more traditional style that was something like the main house in Gone With The Wind, that HORRIBLE drivel of a movie John had made him sit through one weekend, than the sprawling mix of styles of the ‘new’ house. Although clearly long neglected, construction crews swarmed around the place like bees in a hive. 

Barnabas greeted him politely but with detached aloofness. “Mr. Holmes. Elizabeth informed me of your arrival. Please, come in. It is not remotely livable yet.” He shrugged elegantly, seeming rather oblivious to the chill in the air. “The front parlor is at least bearable. The fireplace is functional and the windows have been replaced. It stays warm. At least bearable.” Settling into a comfortable chair, he nodded slightly at the one opposite him. “Please, sit.” 

Sherlock studied Barnabas intently. He’d seen the painting of the man’s long dead namesake hanging over the fireplace in the main parlor of the ‘new’ house. There was a striking resemblance. One that was almost uncanny. “I will try not to take too much of your time. I can see things are very busy here. How well did you know Miss Winters?”

Barnabas sighed. “Not well. She and David would come over for a little while most days for a look around. Where it was safe, I would show them where certain rooms used to be. David was always excited when he found some little treasure, a button or a marble. Miss Winters always made a great deal over his discoveries. She seemed to be very good for the boy. Elizabeth’s health is too fragile to be running around after a very active boy, so I suggested perhaps hiring a nanny would be a good idea. Someone young enough to keep up with him and be… tuned in….” He cocked his head slightly as if trying to find the right phrase. “To what his interests are. I have no family other than Elizabeth. While the familial connection is distant, we get along well. I was very pleased to see David’s behavior improve. His parents are rather distant. His father is busy with work and Caroline…..” He trailed off with a shrug. “Elizabeth spoiled her over much as a child, especially when her father died. She is not the sort who enjoys her role as a parent. David has done well here with Elizabeth’s firm but gentle guidance and the friendship Victoria provided.”

Sherlock nodded slightly. “So like Elizabeth, you do not think it even possible that she would have decided that she’d had enough and just left?”

“No.” Barnabas’ tone was cold. “She has no family, few friends, no romantic entanglements. She made it clear that, for the foreseeable future, she saw her place here. She felt like she belonged. Elizabeth and Mrs. Johnson, along with David and myself, made great efforts to make her feel part of the family.”

“Yes, of course you did…..” Sherlock murmured. “You seem in much better health than your cousin. John seems quite concerned about her, even with a private physician living in the house.”

Barnabas sighed. “I remember her as a child, a young girl, the few times I visited. She was always in fragile health. It declined sharply after the death of her husband. It was not a happy marriage, but she felt his loss deeply and was very ill for some time. I think Caroline resents her mother for being so absent during that time when they were both grieving.” He shook his head. “She has been better with the treatments of Dr. Hoffman. She was treating a patient at Windcliff hospital when Elizabeth’s conditioned worsened a few months ago. Dr. Hoffman has been indispensible in improving Elizabeth’s health and perhaps saving her life. While her treatments have improved my health somewhat, I do not have Elizabeth’s history of difficulties with the condition. We’re very fortunate. Dr. Hoffman is an expert in the field of rare hematological disorders. I’m certain your doctor will find her, and her work, very fascinating. Now, if you will please excuse me I really must speak with my contractor about a delivery that was scheduled for yesterday but did not arrive.” Rising elegantly he held a hand out to Sherlock. “It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Holmes. Should you need to speak with me again, you have my number.”

Nodding Sherlock returned the handshake surprised to note that Barnabas’ skin was even paler than his own and quite cold to the touch despite having been near the brightly burning fire. “Yes, of course. I’ll try not to take up too much more of your time in the future.”

Hands deep in his pockets, lost in thought he headed back in the general direction of the house. Barnabas Collins was definitely a man who was keeping secrets. Exactly what secrets he wasn’t sure of, yet. Whatever they were he seemed more intent on keeping them than Mycroft was his own set of not so secret secrets. Perhaps John was having better luck.

“Where the hell am I now?!” John looked around. “I swear I was just here….” He was trying to follow the hastily scribbled map of the house Willie had drawn for him and wasn’t having much luck. All the hallways not only seemed to connect to each other, but they all looked the same. He knew he was somewhere in the mostly abandoned east wing. The family, along with Mrs. Johnson kept mostly to the central part of the house and the family rooms on the second and third floors. The renovated, updated west wing was reserved mostly for guests. Along with John and Sherlock’s expansive suite of rooms that was nearly the size of their entire flat, a few of the guests arriving later in the week for the costume party would also be staying in the west wing.

 

Dr. Hoffman’s lab and rooms were supposedly somewhere here in the east wing, but apparently he’d taken more than one wrong turn somewhere. There was nothing but endless hallways and locked doors. There wasn’t even a window so he could try and figure out where he was in relation to the rest of the place. 

Looking at the crumpled scrap of paper in his hand, he sighed. He could have used Sherlock’s uncanny sense of direction right now. No matter where they were, Sherlock never seemed to get lost. Sighing he tried another door. Locked. Again. Rounding a corner, he bumped into a petite woman with shockingly red hair. Catching her elbow to steady her, he flashed a grin. “Well it’s about time I finally saw someone else around here.”

Dr. Julia Hoffman blinked several times, head titled slightly, giving her a very birdlike appearance. “Oh. Yes, yes, you must be the doctor-blogger. Elizabeth said you were coming. Your blog is very interesting. You and your detective seem to have a talent for finding yourselves in danger. You’re going the wrong way. My lab is this way.” Spinning on her heel she headed off down a hallway John had missed. Everything blended together so seamlessly; it had been almost impossible to see. 

Noticing he wasn’t following, she popped back around the corner. “Well? Are you coming along or not? I have things to do. We can talk as I work. I don’t have all day. Come along, come along, this way. Honestly.” Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes she shook her head, heels clicking off down the hall.

John blinked several times. Well, whatever he’d been expecting, it really hadn’t been that. It had been like encountering a human hummingbird that could talk. “Why do I always get the strange ones?” He muttered to himself in a hurry to catch up with her. “Well I’m glad I literally ran into you. I’ve got a bit of a map Willie drew but it doesn’t seem very accurate…..”

  

Julia hummed a bit of a laugh. “Mmmm no surprise. There’s positively MILES of corridors and I made myself difficult to find on purpose. It’s very hard to concentrate when your work is constantly being interrupted by an eight year old boy who asks a million questions about what you’re doing and why and if his grandmother is going to die. I don’t like interruptions. I’m on the edge of a breakthrough, I think, and I do not want my focus taken away for a moment.”

John tried not to laugh. Maybe it was just something about geniuses. They were all a bit ‘off’. “Have you tried a Mind Palace? That’s Sherlock’s sorting technique. Can’t be arsed to clean up his mold experiments from the fridge or pick up milk or tidy up the flat, but he can spend days reorganizing information in his mind palace. You two might be able to trade some techniques. And honestly, he might understand more of what you’re doing than I will. He’s the graduate chemist. I’m just a doctor.” 

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not all that complicated, really, mind your step, I’m working on a binding process for the blood cells that will potentially slow or potentially stop the breakdown of the red blood cells. Of course if I can adequately synthesize the treatment it could prove very useful to stop excessive bleeding in emergency situations. Even better than that powder stuff that they’re using now.”

Now he was back on familiar ground. He had plenty of experience using wound sealing powder in Afghanistan and he’d been fascinated by the teenager who’d used some sort of algae to make a gel that instantly stopped bleeding. But this was something else entirely. “So, it would use the patients own red blood cells to clot and stop bleeding?”

She nodded. “Yes, quite right. And with the added benefit of immediately boosting white blood cell production to stop infection in its tracks regardless of the environment someone is in. Here, I’ve got several samples of Elizabeth’s blood. You’ll see it simply refuses to clot and the breakdown is very rapid. I just took these samples less than an hour ago.” Preparing a few slides she slid one under the microscope that was attached to a laptop. “Note that the breakdown is nearly immediate and therefore the blood can not clot. Now, I simply add a few drops of the solution…..” Using a pipette she added a few drops of an odd orangeish brown liquid to the blood. “Now, watch……” 

“Bloody hell……” John muttered, blinking several times to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. “I’ve never seen anything like that…. I could have used this…. Sometimes that wound seal powder isn’t enough or we’d run out. How much of that stuff does it take?”

Julia shrugged. “Mmmm a few drops. It’s not an exact science. Yet. I haven’t yet started treatments on Elizabeth. Barnabas has proved a rather willing guinea pig. His condition is not as serious. So far, it seems to be improving his health. I’ve been keeping a close watch on David. Elizabeth wasn’t much older than him when she first presented with symptoms. Paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria. Nasty bit of stuff. Quite deadly. Very rare, but usually one hundred percent fatal. At least it used to be.” She shrugged. “Of course bone marrow transplants can be done, but that is not without risk in itself.”

John nodded, still watching the screen. Sherlock would be completely fascinated by this. “Did you have much to do with Victoria, David’s nanny? From what Elizabeth’s said and what I’ve gathered from Mrs. Johnson, she’s not the sort to just up and leave. She and David seem to have gotten along well.” 

“We’d crossed paths. I didn’t know her well. She was a quiet girl, but friendly and pleasant. David adored her. Sometimes they’d come here to do a science lesson. She seemed to have a gift for working with him and not letting him completely destroy my lab equipment or set fire to the whole thing. She was very level headed for someone her age and took her responsibility to David seriously. He says all her things are still in her room so I don’t see where she could have gone off to. From what Elizabeth’s said, no one in the village saw her leave. It would take days to walk anywhere and anyone unfamiliar, especially arriving in the dead of night would have been endless fodder for gossip.”

John nodded. “Elizabeth said it was all right if I talked to David. Do you have any idea where he might be? And I have no idea how to get back to the main part of the house…..”

Julia shrugged. “Probably up in his room. Third floor of the main house. It used to be the nursery in the old days. Keep the children well out of sight and hearing until it was time for them to be presented for inspection. The school room is up there, along with his room, the playroom, and Victoria’s room. It’s practically the entire third floor. Go back the way we came, three rights, a left, a right, two lefts, a right, left, right, left, right, three lefts and a right. If you come out the other end of the house near the garage and stables, you’ve gone too far.”

John sighed, shaking his head. Bloody geniuses always expected the rest of the world to be able to keep up with them. He really should have thought to leave a trail of bread crumbs or pebbles or SOMETHING so he could find his way back. “Right….. Thanks…..” If he ever found his way back, he was going to make Sherlock pay dearly for this.


	3. Vampires Are NOT Real....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets filled in on the local gossip about a vampire stalking the area from David. John wanders around in the basements, completely lost. Despite the rumors, Sherlock KNOWS that vampires can not be real. There has to be a perfectly logical explanation after all. John makes Sherlock reconsider his 'no sex while on a case' rule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this!! It's been a bit of a challenge to write, but in a good way. I hope you all enjoy this bit! I spent WAY too much time researching medical/clinical vampirism. Just the latest thing in a long list of weird things in my browser history. LOL!!! Kudos and especially comments help keep me writing!!!

It turned out to be Sherlock who found David first. On his way back from talking to Barnabas, he detoured through the large stable. Most of the horses were out in the fields, but a few were in their stalls. Of course it wasn’t anything compared to the Royal Mews at Buckingham Palace, but it was rather nice. Several inquisitive heads poked over stall doors to see if treats were going to be given out. 

Stripping off a glove, Sherlock ran a hand over a velvety soft muzzle. “Hello there lovely…..” Just because he didn’t particularly LIKE horses, didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the strength and beauty of them. He didn’t much care for riding. After all, being stuck to the back of something with a mind of its own was NOT his idea of a good time. Although according to John’s stories, horses were much better than camels. He suppressed a shudder at the thought of one of those creatures spitting on him, much less the disgusting habit of vomiting up their stomach. They might be useful, but disgusting.

“This is Alice. She’s Victoria’s favorite.” Looking down, Sherlock nodded. “You must be David. Your grandmother told me about you.” David nodded, scuffing the floor in front of him. “Yeah. You’re a detective? Are you going to find Victoria? I miss her. There’s nobody else to play with.” He sighed, shoulders sagging. 

This. This was why he wasn’t good with children. They were too complicated, too emotionally unstable. He really wanted to leave this sort of thing to John. “Yes. I’m a detective and I’m going to try and find her. She didn’t leave, did she?” 

David shook his head. “No. No. She wouldn’t leave me without saying goodbye. She promised me the first day she was here that she wouldn’t ever leave without telling me and saying goodbye. I tried calling her phone, but it doesn’t work.” He sighed.

“I see…..” Sherlock nodded slightly. No, he really didn’t see at all. From what little he had learned about the girl, she didn’t seem the sort to just run off. Mycroft was still getting information on her, but she proved to be difficult to trace.

Smiling, David produced a few lumps of sugar from one of his pockets, holding them in front of the horse’s nose. “I know. She’ll be back soon. Until then, it’s just us. I gotta go inside before Grandma knows I ditched my lessons, again. I don’t want her to get mad. It’s not good for her. It’s just that without Victoria, it’s boring.” He looked up at Sherlock. “We can go in now.”

Nodding, he followed the boy only half tuned in to his endless stream of information about the house, his family, the village, his school work, everything. Well perhaps children were useful for one thing. They were an endless stream of information and didn’t have the natural tendencies of adults to withhold information. “What was that you said about people in the village?” Some bit of the ramble had set off something in his Mind Palace. 

David looked up at him. “Oh. Well some people in the village have gone missing. And it’s not ‘cause the fishing boats have sank. Nobody knows what’s happening to them. A couple of them have been found on the beach after a few days. And guess what…….” He paused for dramatic effect, looking around. “They didn’t have any blood left in them! Some of the people say that there was a curse by an evil witch a long time ago and she made someone a vampire and he was gone a long time, but he’s back now.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly. Vampires. Really. How ridiculous. Although there was Renfield Syndrome which was more likely to been seen in a group of rather misguided teenagers who listened to too much depressing music and wearing pale make up accentuated with black lips, heavy eye liner, and black lipstick. The music had been horrible, but he’d been able to pass as one of them with little make up since he was naturally pale. There were a number of other physical and psychiatric conditions, which drove people to crave blood. There was a tentative link with Celiac Disease and well as Porphyria and severe anemia had all been suspected causes of so called vampirism before. Perhaps there would be something of interest here after all. A small group of rather isolated and often closely related might lead to genetic abnormalities that could lead to such a preposterous thing as actually considering witches, curses, and vampires. It was all rather gothic. 

  

He followed David back to the main part of the house. “Thank you for talking to me. I’m sure we’ll find Victoria soon.” David sighed. “I hope so. It’s really boring without her.” Rushing off upstairs before he could get caught, he barely spared a backward glance at Sherlock. “Vampires….” Sherlock snorted. “Impossible. Completely illogical.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s completely bloody illogical!” John grumbled brushing past Sherlock, covered in dust and grime. “This whole bloody house is completely illogical!!” He snapped, stomping up the stairs with a huff. “Oh it’s EASY! Rattle of a complete bit of nonsense about directions and leave someone to wander around in the cellars for two hours with no way of knowing which way is up!”

Sherlock followed him, trying to hide his smile. There were few things he found more charming than when John was royally pissed off about something. His dear little hedgehog was all attitude and quivering quills. “Where have you been to get so dirty?”

“The basement, cellars, whatever you want to call it!” John waved a hand before trying to scrub a sticky bit of cobweb off his nose. “I ran into that Dr. Hoffman. She’s doing some interesting stuff, but she’s a nutter. Absolute and complete nutter! Her so called ‘simple’ instructions for finding my way back to the main part of the house got me nothing but lost. There must be miles of cellars and tunnels down there. From the look and sound of it, they go all the way out to the cove. Probably used for smuggling.” Sneezing a puff of dust came off his hair. Groaning he flopped into a chair in their room. “Decades worth of old, broken furniture, crates full of who knows what, and for some reason an old crypt.” He shrugged with a wince, rubbing at his shoulder. Poking around in the cold damp area and shoving on locked doors and abandoned furniture was making his shoulder ache. “Big stone thing. Looked like it had been wrapped in chains at one time. Of course they’re all rusted now and the lid was half off. Nothing in there but a bunch of dirt.”

Sherlock chuckled deeply. “Well, according to David, there’s a vampire roaming around these parts. Maybe you came across the vampire’s sleeping place. I’ll work on your shoulder before it gets worse. Come on, off with that horrible jumper.”

John smiled. “It was a birthday gift from Mrs. Hudson and it’s not that terrible. I’m rather fond of it.” Wincing with a hiss, he carefully eased his arms out of the fabric. “Well there goes the rugby career I had planned….. It hasn’t hurt this much since I got shot.”

Sherlock’s nimble fingers carefully pressed into the knotted muscles. “If you’d let me do this for you more often, it wouldn’t get this bad. You allow the scar tissues to tighten up to the point it threatens the mobility of your arm and it doesn’t help the adhesions and nerve damage.”

John smiled up at him with a smirk. “Mmmm… Well most of the time it doesn’t bother me. It’s a level of pain I’m used to. I don’t notice it much. But I’ll never turn down a massage. It’s a shame about your rule about no sex while there’s a case….. You know damn well what your hands do to me….. A real shame considering how relaxed I’ll be. You deserve a proper thanks for your skills. Such beautiful hands.” He smiled, turning his head slightly to place a kiss on the back of Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock let out a barely audible whine from deep in his throat. Damn. John had already been testing his resolve about this matter. It was much easier in London where there were other things to keep him occupied. Things like examining mold cultures with his microscope or harassing Lestrade about a case or examining bodies with Molly. But here, in the middle of nowhere, with so few things to distract him from the distraction that was John he was seriously beginning to consider he’d perhaps been a little hasty.


	4. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock discuss the possible existence of vampires. Sherlock begins putting a few more pieces together. It's becoming more and more obvious that Victoria didn't run away. If she was kidnapped, who did it and why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you SO much for sticking with me through a delay. One weekend I had a nasty bug and then last weekend I had a migraine. Today, my back went out. I'm hobbling around like I'm 90! At least I'm not in that much pain when I'm laying down so I got caught up on this story. A bit. I've got a few days off so I'll try and get the next chapter done too. Again, thank you for sticking with me!!!!

John woke to over six feet of lanky detective half sprawled on top of him. When he was asleep, he was a tangle of limbs. He reminded John of some sort of strange cross between an octopus and a giraffe. Sherlock tended to use him as one of those body pillows. Not that he minded in the slightest. While he would occasionally get poked by a pointy elbow or slightly knobby knee, it was more than worth it. There were few things more lovely than Sherlock when he was asleep. Smiling, John brushed a few wayward curls off Sherlock’s forehead, pacing a feather light kiss at his hairline. Sherlock wrinkled his nose cutely, giving the impression of a curious rabbit. John suppressed a chuckle nuzzling his nose in the wild riot of dark curls. He wasn’t sure exactly what was in the ridiculously expensive posh shampoo that Sherlock favored, but it smelled good. Oranges, clove or something with a bit of spice, maybe a bit of cedar or pine that gave off a slightly woodsy smell. Whatever it was smelled incredibly good.

Sherlock mumbled, burrowing closer to John. “Mmmmmppphhh early…..”

John snorted a laugh. “Well I suppose it is for someone who was up until all hours playing absolutely hideous things on the violin and muttering things about the stupidity of small town people who think there’s a vampire on the loose.”

Sherlock grumbled something unpleasant and rude, trying to burrow closer to John and further away from the sunlight sneaking into the room.

Sighing deeply, John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, tugging with just enough force to get Sherlock’s full attention. “I know very well what you think, but that doesn’t change things. There’s a young woman missing and a little boy who’s very scared. If he’s got any real chance of turning out ok, he needs you to find her. And that means talking to people in town who are a bit superstitious. You’re the best chance she’s got. It’s already been days. You know as well as I do the chance of finding her alive decreases dramatically each day she’s missing. Now, you’re going to get up and we’re going to go into town for breakfast and you’re going to be your usual brilliant self, just more polite, and we’re going to find her. Do I make myself clear?” He cocked his head slightly.

Sherlock held back a whimper. John had slipped into Captain Watson mode and that always made thinking more than a bit difficult. That tone tended to make his mind shut down and go pleasantly blank. For the second time in what he estimated to be nine hours, John had him giving serious consideration to the self imposed ‘no sex while on a case’ rule. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to BEND the rule. After all he was VERY good at bending rules.

“Sherlock…..” John’s tone held a hint of warning, startling Sherlock from his thoughts. “Yes, John. Of course. I will be unfailingly polite. A good country breakfast and plenty of strong tea will do wonders for me. You know how I am when I don’t eat……” It was a half apology but hopefully it would be enough until he managed to figure out just HOW he was going to bend his own rule. 

John smiled, cupping his face and kissing him slowly. “That’s a bit more like it. And you’re almost always a complete arse, but even more when you’re hungry. How many times am I going to have to remind you that without fuel, that great machine of a brain in your head isn’t going to work as well?”

Sherlock chuckled softly, nuzzling into John’s hand. “Mmm… Probably a few million more times, give or take…… You are so patient.”

John laughed. “Yeah, God knows how I manage it. My Mum always said I had the patience of a saint. Guess every saint has to be tested to the limit. Come on, genius mine, it’s not that cold and you’ll warm up in the shower.”

An hour later they were seated in a small café near the water, staring at the overflowing plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon that their waitress had set in front of them the minute they sat down. Apparently it was the standard breakfast for the locals and there wasn’t any ordering. You simply got what everyone got. 

John blinked. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten this much in my entire life….. What I wouldn’t have given for even a quarter of this in the army…. I would have made it last a week…..”

Sherlock poked at the fluffy mountain of scrambled eggs. “John, I can’t possibly eat all of this…… I’ll be sick….”

John sighed deeply. “I know. All right, we’re going to have to manage this somehow. You keep the waitress talking while I slip most of what’s on our plates to the dog.” He nodded to a large mutt who was dozing in a patch of sun. “No dog in his right mind would turn down any of this.” Leaning back in his chair he whistled a tune, enough to cause the dog to crack one eye open. Smirking he held a bit of bacon out in clear invitation. Soon a wet nose was pressing into his hand, searching for more. “He’s interested now. Just keep talking and I’ll handle this.”

Sherlock snorted, rolling his eyes as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated your talent for subterfuge for too long……” Catching the attention of the waitress he smiled charmingly, engaging her in a long conversation about the history of the area, the Collins family, and the mysterious deaths.

“It was a near thing, Mr. Holmes, I was coming into work while it was still dark. Some of our first customers come in before it’s really light out. They have to get out early for the day’s catch of fish and I make sure they get a good meal. I was just about here where I heard this growling. I thought it was maybe a fox or something. When I looked down the alley, I saw these eyes. They were glowing red as coals. I rushed in here as quick as I could and locked the door behind me! Lots of people have been seeing those devilish red eyes. Every time someone sees those eyes, someone goes missing. They turn up days later in the middle of nowhere all drained of blood and just white as a sheet. Now, I don’t believe in those stories about a vampire or whatnot, but I know there was something out there!”

Catching his eye, John nodded, their plates now mostly empty thanks to his generous feeding of the dog. Sherlock smiled. “No, of course not, you’re much too sensible to believe something like that. I can’t tell you how helpful you’ve been and how wonderful breakfast was.”

The girl giggled, taking their plates. “Whenever you two get tired of that fancy stuff they serve up at the big house, you just come down here and I’ll see that you’re fed properly.”

Nodding he smiled. “I’m certain we’ll do just that. John, I think a walk along the shore would be just the thing after such a breakfast.”

John smiled, giving the dog a friendly pat on the head. “It really was wonderful. I’m sure we’ll be back. He’s a bit of a picky eater, but you seem to have managed to sweeten his appetite.” Following Sherlock outside he sighed. “Nice bit of work there. See, you can be charming when you want to be.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Well I hope sitting through the entire history of every family to ever live here was worth it. Glowing red devil eyes! Really, John! I don’t see how that could possibly in any way be relevant. After all, we both know that vampires do NOT exist! Not outside of terribly written fiction and poorly acted movies that make them ridiculously romantic!”

John laughed. “Yeah, I know, but there are a few medical and psychological conditions that make people crave blood. And a few people get wrapped up in the whole thing and go so far as getting dental implants so they have actual fangs to bite each other with.” He shrugged. “People are strange. Harry was a bit into that stuff for a while. Trying to impress a girl. It all got a bit too strange for her tastes so she quit bothering with it.”

“I’ve been saying people were strange for a VERY long time.” Sherlock muttered, wrinkling his nose as he stepped around a discarded fish head. “It’s becoming apparent that the girl did not run away. She seems to have had nowhere to run TO. Mycroft is attempting to find out anything he can, but there seems little to find out. Apparently all the files from the orphanage she grew up in were lost in a fire. Rather convenient. A kidnapping also seems unlikely. If someone wanted money from the family, why not take the boy? Why take someone who is replaceable? There have been no ransom demands, no contact from a kidnapper. Unlikely at best.” He shook his head. “Why go to the trouble of kidnapping someone if there’s nothing to be gained from it?”

“Maybe there is.” Shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets, he squinted over the bright water. “Sometimes it’s about possessing someone so that no one else can have them. You know, those crazy sorts who’ve done insane things and tried to kidnap celebrities because they’re so obsessed with them and have a completely imagined relationship with the person. A stranger wouldn’t go by without notice around here. The re doesn’t seem anyone besides Willie or Barnabas who had any real interest in Victoria and you’ve already said Willie couldn’t possibly be keeping something like that secret for very long. So, that just leaves Barnabas.”

Sherlock nodded slowly. “Yes and the rumors surrounding him. He’s a bit of a mysterious figure around here. Even though he is related, he’s new. The people don’t trust him. With all of the construction going on at his house, it would be an ideal place to hide someone. I did notice a painting while I was there. Clearly it had just recently been taken from storage. There were bits of straw still sticking to the frame in places. The woman in the portrait bore a striking resemblance to the missing one. It if was a forgery, or something done recently, it was very well done. The painting appeared to be from a fairly well known portrait painter from the mid eighteenth century. Perhaps there is something interesting to this case after all……”


End file.
